


From the Mixed Up Files of Tony Stark's Library

by epeeblade



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Library, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fandom Trumps Hate, M/M, no powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 23:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12617840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeeblade/pseuds/epeeblade
Summary: Clint Barton's get out of jail free card involves working for one of the Stark Libraries. When he meets Librarian Phil Coulson, sparks fly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatmysticbafflingwonder (babykid528)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykid528/gifts).



> This fic is being written for thatmysticbafflingwonder who bought me in the Fandom Trumps Hate auction. It's been a long wait, I'm sorry.
> 
> My goal is to post a new chapter each week.

Clint had gone from one public institution to another. He only hoped that working for a Stark Library would be better than being in prison. He’d heard things about the eccentric Tony Stark, and for whatever reason, Stark had taken an interest in his case and recommended Clint for employment. 

He stood outside the white brick building. A short set of steps let to a porch, where a bronze statue of Maria Stark stood. The Stark Library Project had been her idea, after all. Clint had been in school long enough to know about that. They taught kids that right after shoe-tying and don’t lick the flagpole. 

“Are you going to stand out there staring at it, or are you going to walk your ass in there?”

Clint jumped at the sound of the deep voice coming from behind. He turned to greet his new boss, library director Fury, the man who’d interviewed him for this job. “Just appreciating the view, sir.”

“If there’s one thing the Starks know how to do, it’s build a nice looking building.” Fury nodded in appreciation, looking up at the row of columns. “Come on. Let’s get you introduced to the crew.”

Clint swallowed and nodded, too nervous to say anything. He followed Fury up the stairs, his heart thumping so loud he could hear it echoing in his ears. This was it. His second chance. Don’t screw this up, Barton.

“We’ll get to your locker in a minute. First I want to introduce you to Circulation.” Fury led the way to the front desk that you saw immediately upon entering the library, right after the security archways that Clint passed through. He looked back at them, always antsy whenever he had to pass through any checkpoint.

“Meet Fitz and Simmons. Our front-line circ staff.” Fury nodded at the two standing behind the circulation desk.

“My god, you’re babies,” Clint sputtered. Just looking at them made him feel very old. 

“I assure you we are perfectly capable of performing our duties.” The girl - Simmons? - said in a prissy English accent.

“That’s not what I meant,” Clint tried to apologize. Fuck. He always stuck his foot in his mouth. It was why he sucked at life. “You just…” He shook his head and held out his hand. “Hi. I’m Clint. I tend to say the first thing that pops into my head.”

Thankfully, she smiled in return and shook his hand. “Jemma. I like to think before I speak.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Clint moved on to the guy.

“Leo Fitz,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Thanks for ignoring my douchebaggery.”

Clint looked over just in time to see Fury rubbing at his forehead. Crap. Not a great start already.

“Barton here is our new page. He’ll split his duties down here when you need him, and upstairs shelving, unless tech services grabs him.”

Clint opened his mouth to ask about that, when all of a sudden he heard the sound of a bump and someone saying “Ow!”

Fitz and Simmons separated and another young woman popped up from behind the desk, rubbing the back of her head. “Looks like the CPU fan on this terminal is busted, guys. I have one upstairs I can swap out.” She grinned at Clint. “Hi. I’m Skye.”

“Also known as our PC technician. She’s under desks a lot.” Fury gestured with his head. “This way. I’ll introduce you to the librarians next.”

“Good luck with that,” Skye said.

That didn’t help Clint’s expectations.

Fury led him to another desk, this one with the words Reference hung above it in polished gold letters. He introduced Clint to three librarians: a bald man named Jasper Sitwell, a woman with bright blue eyes named Maria Hill, and another woman with streaks of red in her hair named Victoria Hand. She narrowed her eyes at Clint, and he couldn’t tell if she had x-ray vision or something. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he should have dressed up in something more than khakis and a t-shirt, but they were the best clothes he owned. He’d even borrowed the suit he'd worn to the interview.

“Where the hell is Coulson?” Fury barked, looking around.

“He’s in the basement working on the Expo materials.” Sitwell rolled his eyes. “I’ll give him fifteen more minutes then I’ll help him come up for air.”

Fury shook his head. “I told all of you to be at your stations this morning to meet Clint. He’s got a whole month to finish that.”

Maria let out a little laugh. “In Phil’s eyes, that’s only a month left to make it perfect.” She smiled warmly at Clint. “We are hosting the visiting exhibit on Captain America from the Smithsonian. Phil is in charge and he takes anything having to do with Captain America a bit seriously.”

Hand let out a snort. “That’s putting it mildly. Welcome to the library, Clint. If you will excuse me, I need to get set up for storytime.”

She turned and exited the pristine Reference Desk, walking toward a department Clint saw marked with the word “Children’s Services” hanging above it. “Story time?” 

“Hand is our Children’s librarian. The kids love her.” Fury nodded and propelled Clint out of the desk area, toward the main stairwell in the center of the library. “But don’t fuck with her.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Upstairs, they passed rows of shelves and comfy seating, until Fury led him to an unobtrusive door in the wall. He punched in a series of numbers on the keypad and told Clint the code: 616. “Don’t forget it. Otherwise you won’t be getting into the staff area.”

But they bypassed the staff lounge as Fury led him to another door with the words “technical services” on a little plaque. Inside there were three more people. Clint was going to have to take notes to keep everyone straight.

“Clint, this is Melinda May, head of both Technical and Access Services, at least until we can hire someone who works half as hard as she does.”

May nodded, a smile just barely touching her lips. “Welcome.”

“Alphonse Mackenzie, call me Mack.” A very large man came forward and shook Clint’s hand heartily. Honestly, it made Clint feel good that there was someone else who didn’t look prim and polished like the folks downstairs. Mack wore a t-shirt and jeans, and his hands were smudged with ink. Just what did he do up here?

“And that’s Natasha.” Fury gestured to a redheaded woman still sitting behind a desk. 

Clint blinked. It looked like she had knitting needles pinning her hair back, and there were several balls of yarn on her desk. She got up and came over to inspect him. “How are you with numbers?” she asked.

“Um. I don’t hate them?” Clint wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I need a shelf-reader. You’ll be doing some work for us, right?” She looked at Fury, who let out a sigh.

“Don’t monopolize him, Romanov. We’re short in Circ, too. The whole reason I hired him was to make sure we had somebody where we needed them.”

She just let out a little ‘hmm’ and went back to her desk.

Fury then took Clint to where the staff lockers were and let him pick one to store his stuff. “Um, sir,” Clint said, taking the little paper with the combo for the locker he picked and shoving it in his pocket. “Were those knitting needles?”

Fury slapped Clint on the shoulder, nearly sending him into the metal of the lockers. “She’s the best damn cataloguer I’ve ever seen. How she does that? I don’t ask. But if she likes you, you might get a scarf, mysteriously placed in your locker, after you’ve locked it. I don’t know how she does that, either.”

Clint grinned. He just might like working here.

***

Phil Coulson, MLIS, sneezed as he approached the Reference Desk. His head was filled with numbers and plans, and he really needed to access his spreadsheets on the shared drive. There were caterers to contact, press releases to write, and he needed to double check on his advertising order. Those posters should have been here by now!

“Hey, Phil.” Jasper gestured with his mug of coffee in a sort of wave. “You missed the new guy.”

Phil slid into the seat in front of the computer and logged in. It would help if he could get started before the desk got busy. Otherwise he’d never finish, and get lost in answering patron questions. Most of the time he enjoyed doing that. Phil loved getting his teeth sunk into a gritty bit of research. But right now he didn’t need to get bogged down in helping people figure out how to print.

He had work to do.

“I assume I’ll see him around.” Phil scrolled through his files, but he could clearly see in the reflection of the screen the look Maria gave Jasper.

“Oh you won’t miss him.” She grinned. “He damn fine looking. Forearms that could break a tree in half.”

“Maria, don’t objectify the staff,” Phil said lightly. “That’s inappropriate.”

“I don’t know.” She hopped up onto the desk next to him. “He’s not under our direct supervision is he?”

Good God, she wasn’t trying to set him up, was she? Phil knew damn well Maria was already in a committed relationship. He was perfectly happy being single. Phil had his work to occupy him. That was enough.

“I suppose I’ll have to judge when I meet him,” Phil said to get her to stop. “Now, have you had a chance to look at the schedule for the exhibition? I need to know what hours you can volunteer?”

“Um.” 

Both Maria and Jasper scattered so fast they left dust in their wake. Phil grinned as he opened his spreadsheets. Eventually he’d have to pin them down to some hours. But if he was the only Librarian who cared about Captain America, then so be it. Tony Stark himself had trusted Phil with this project. Phil intended for it to be the best version of the shared exhibit traveling throughout all of the Stark Libraries.

He’d stake his life/career on that.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint had spent the morning learning the Dewey Decimal system. Natasha had set him up at a computer with a tutorial and gave him a chart. He didn’t have to memorize the subjects right now, she’d said, but he damn well should know how to put books in the proper numerical order. 

“Do you think you want to try shelving some?” Natasha rolled a purple book cart in his direction. “I’ll check your work afterward.”

Clint swallowed. He hated the idea of screwing this up. A little voice in the back of his head still yammered at him, how he wasn’t good enough, that he’d never amount to anything more than his brother - a felon. 

Relax. It’s just books.

No one was going to die if he put a book in the wrong order. Clint shook himself. “Let me give it a shot.”

“Okay. These are all stacks, so it’s this floor. They are 900s, so history, that’s along the back wall. I’ve already put the cart in order. You just need to get them on the shelf.” She gave him a knowing look. “Let me know when you’re done. I’ll be at my desk.”

She proceeded to take out a ball of black yarn and started casting it on the thickest knitting needed Clint had ever seen. He might be a little bit afraid of her.

He took the cart and pushed it out of the staff area. One of the wheels squealed as he pushed. Clint made a mental note to look for some WD-40 when he got back.

The 900s were exactly as Natasha said, along the back wall. Working back here, he didn’t have a line of sight to the stairs or the elevator. That made him slightly nervous. It would be a hard position to defend.

Stop thinking like that. This is a library, not a heist.

Clint looked at his first book, found the row, and shelved it easily. He stepped back and checked his work. It looked right. Huh. Maybe he didn’t completely suck at this. 

He got into a good groove, picking up a book, finding its place on the shelf, and then shoving it where it belonged before straightening the entire row. Clint started at the top, and then worked his way to the shelves below.

He bent over and shimmied backward, miscounting the numbers and needed to move a few feet. Clint took a step back and bumped his butt into something.

That something turned out to be a someone, he found, when he turned around to check.

“Excuse me!”

The man who’d Clint had bumped into with his butt seemed a little bit upset about it. Clint opened his mouth to apologize but his mouth went dry.

This guy - this guy was seriously hot. He had amazing sharp blue eyes that seemed to stare into Clint’s soul. He wore a perfectly pressed suit and his bearing just screamed competence and authority. It was the kind of thing that made Clint’s dick sit up and take notice. 

He managed a “s-sorry.” and then cringed at how he suddenly had lost the ability to speak. Clint cleared his throat. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Clearly.” The man raised an eyebrow as he looked Clint up from head to toe. “Can I help you with something?”

Only then did Clint notice the name badge clipped to the guy’s lapel. He worked here - this was the guy Clint hadn’t been introduced to yesterday.

“Oh, no. I mean, I work here. Second day on the job. Shelving books.” Clint held up the book he had been in the middle of shelving and only then did he realize the title was “Sex with the King.” 

Understanding dawned in those blue eyes. “Ah, you’re the new hire.

“Yeah, the one you didn’t have time for yesterday.”

Would Clint ever learn to keep his mouth shut? It sounded so passive aggressive, but he honestly meant that clearly this guy had way more important things to do than meet Clint. God knew, Clint didn’t know if he was going to last doing this.

To his surprise, a smile curved those perfectly shaped lips. “Fair. I’m Phil Coulson. MLIS.” He held out his hand.

Clint held out the hand with the book, then ended up doing a little dance to get the book in his other hand and then shake Coulson’s. “Clint. Barton. Page.”

Coulson’s hand was warm and firm, and Clint held it just a shade too long before blushing and pulling away. 

“Nice to meet you, Clint. Now, if you will excuse me, I am looking for a book for a patron.” Phil took two steps past Clint, pulled a slim navy book from the shelves behind him, and then turned and went on his way.

Clint watched him go, admiring the way Phil walked and how his ass filled out those neatly tailored trousers. 

He was so fucked.

***

Well. Maria hadn’t been wrong. The new hire was certainly Phil’s type. He had a lean, athletic body, which meant unlike Phil he hadn’t spent most of his formative years behind a desk, or in a library for that matter. But the thing that had desire pooling in his gut were Clint’s hands and forearms. There was such strength there, and the promise of that made Phil think thoughts he shouldn’t be thinking.

Certainly not in the context of work anyway. He needed to get this book to Mrs. Miller, and did not want to approach the Reference Desk with an inappropriate erection. 

At the top of the steps he took a deep breath and thought of cutter numbers and the Dewey Decimal system before venturing downstairs. 

“Here you go, Mrs. Miller. It was right on the shelf.” He handed the book to the older woman with the coke-bottle glasses. 

“Oh, thank you, dear. I don’t know how I missed it.”

Honestly Phil didn’t know how she was able to see anything with glasses that thick. He was even a bit worried about her driving here. But since the state of New Jersey had yet to confiscate her license, this 90 year old kept driving. 

He made a mental to note to advertise the senior driving program on the bulletin board next month.

After the exposition. Phil wanted every spare scrap of advertising space to talk about the Captain America exhibit. This was the first time in years the show was traveling, and he wanted it to be spectacular - especially considering the Stark family involvement in the program.

“You look deep in thought.” Maria slid into the seat next to him. She was ten minutes early for her shift, bless her.

“Considering avenues of advertising for the expo,” he replied absently.

“Phil,” she said gently, “I know this exhibit is really important to you, but don’t let it consume your life.”

Hah. She should know better. Most librarians didn’t do things half-way. He grinned. “I met the new hire.”

“Oh? What did you think?” Now she grinned.

“I think you may have a point.” He held up a hand to keep her from responding, “But, as you know, he’s an employee here, and I don’t date in the library.”

She rolled her eyes. “Phil, if you only knew how incestuous this place is.”

“Things I don’t want to know about, Maria.” Phil signed out of his email so she could have the computer.

Besides, what would a hot guy like Clint Barton want with a fussy old librarian like Phil?


	3. Chapter 3

Clint winced as the door slammed behind him. He forgot about that quirk of the halfway house he called home. All of the doors had been set to close by themselves - for fire safety or some other BS reason.

“Clint, is that you?” Sam Wilson, the house director, popped his head in the hallway. “We missed you at dinner.”

In response, Clint’s belly rumbled. “I missed my bus. Had to wait for the next one.”

Sam nodded. “Figured something like that. Thought you liked the new job so much you worked late.”

Clint laughed. “Sure.”

“Leftovers for you in the fridge. Come on down to group when you’re done.” Sam knocked on the doorway to the ‘study’ where they held the group sessions. “Oh, you should call your probation officer. She came sniffing around here this afternoon.”

Any bit of Clint that had been elated at the prospect of leftovers - Sam was a damn good cook - wilted at hearing that news. Tony Stark might have gotten Clint out of jail, but even he couldn’t get Clint out of the system completely. Two years of reporting to a probation officer was the price for his freedom - along with life here at the Steve Rogers Halfway House for Lost Souls Looking to Get Back on Their Feet.

Ok, so that wasn’t officially part of the name, but Clint liked to add it in his head. 

He couldn’t put off the phone call forever. Clint took the phone off the wall - yes, he had to rely on the damn landline until he served enough time to be allowed a cell phone. At least it wasn’t a rotary phone. He’d seen a few of those in his haphazard childhood. Clint tapped the numbers in by rote.

“Morse.” A clipped voice replied on the other end.

“Um. Hi. It’s Clint. Clint Barton. I’m checking in.” He stammered.

She sighed. “Any reason you weren’t at the halfway house when I stopped in?”

It wasn’t a scheduled check in, he wanted to shout. How as Clint to know she would just drop in? “I had to take the late bus home, Officer Morse.”

“Officer Morse is my father.” She sounded annoyed with him, like she usually did. “Look, Barton, I’m trying to help you. My job is to keep you on the straight and narrow.”

“Narrow, but never straight,” he quipped before thinking about it.

“Good to know. Be there the next time I check in.”

He didn’t have time to respond before she hung up. Well. That was a thing. 

Clint dug into the fridge until he found the plate made up for him. Sam was thoughtful like that. Clint stuck it in the microwave for thirty, and then carried the platter of chicken and green beans into the study with him. Most of the seats were taken, except for the one near James, who sat with his chair jammed up against the wall. Clint didn’t know much about him other than he was one of the vets, and that he kept his empty left sleeve close to his chest.

“Hey, sorry.” Clint slid into the empty seat and proceeded to gulp down his dinner.

“We’re just glad you were able to make it tonight, Clint.” Sam continued smoothly. “We were listening to Wade talk about his day.”

When wasn’t Wade talking? This time, Clint held the comment in and kept eating. Wade was honestly a bit scary. 

He’d taken the last few bites off his plate when Sam turned his gaze back on Clint. “So, Clint. Tell us about the new job. How is it working out?”

Clint wished he’d grabbed something to drink. He swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Good. I guess. It’s only my second day.”

Sam waited expectantly. Clint stared him down. He didn’t really have anything else to say.

Sam sighed. “Could you give us a little more detail about what you’ve been doing?”

“You...want me to explain the Dewey Decimal system?” Clint opened his eyes wide and made his most innocent looking face.

The others in the circle all groaned.

Sam rubbed his forehead. Score. Clint hadn’t gotten him to do that in days. “No, Clint. Tell me about the people you work with. Have you made any friends?”

Immediately Clint thought of his accidental bumping into librarian Phil Coulson. For some reason that had his cheeks heating. Crap, he hoped he wasn’t visibly blushing. Sam would latch onto that and not leave him alone for days. Quick, who else could he talk about?

“I’m working with a lot of different people. The kids downstairs look like they’re just out of diapers.” They still made Clint feel old. “But mostly I’m working with the cataloger. She seems nice. She um likes to knit.”

“Knitting. Okay, that’s cool.”

Thankfully, Sam then moved on, asking someone else about their progress. Clint hated talking in these things. But one of the conditions of his release involved living here and participating in group and becoming a thriving member of society. Good luck with that.

Maybe he shouldn’t be so hard on himself. Clint liked his library job so far. Maybe he might make something of himself. 

But why had he immediately thought of Coulson? Clint had only met the man for five minutes. He seemed everything Clint wasn’t - intelligent, put together, incredibly handsome. Crap, it was too soon to develop a crush. Clint barely knew him.

Tomorrow he’d focus on his work and not worry about Phil Coulson.

***

Phil dropped onto his couch after a long day at work. In a few minutes he’d work up some energy and maybe throw something into the microwave. Just because he was in up to his neck busy with the Captain America project, didn’t mean he could neglect the rest of his duties at work. He needed to get in his book purchase requests in by the end of the month before Melinda started breathing down his neck about the budget and making sure her staff wasn’t overwhelmed at the end of the fiscal year.

He nearly jumped when his cat, Bucky, hopped onto his lap and started kneading at his thighs. Phil stroked his pale gray fur and sighed. “Yes, I know you need to be fed. So do I.”

Having a cat was probably one of his more cliche librarian qualities, but Phil had refrained from naming the cat Dewey. Of course, by naming him after Captain America’s best friend, Phil had gone cliche in a completly different direction.

Phil padded into the kitchen and popped his frozen meal in the microwave, Bucky meowing at his heels. He then went and got the catfood and opened the can with a yawn. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to end up eating the catfood and giving Bucky his frozen meal.

Someday, Phil would like to come home to someone. Maybe go grocery shopping together, so they could prepare a meal together. He pictured sharing space in the kitchen, watching as some unknown person lovingly chopping vegetables. In his daydream, Phil saw perfectly formed hands, and strong forearms, and then he blinked realizing he was picturing Clint Barton.

Damn it, Maria was getting to him. He never should have talked about his personal life - or lack thereof - with her. 

Phil took his meal to the couch and flipped on the TV. If he recalled correctly, there was a new episode of Dog Cops on tonight. He’d unwind for a bit, then get to bed early so he could be energized for a full day at the library tomorrow.

And he would not think about Clint Barton at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Thanksgiving holiday cut into my writing schedule. I hope to be able to update next Friday on schedule, but i might have to take some time to work on my Yuletide fic first. (That deadline is coming up FAST.)

Clint thought his third day of work might be just as boring and routine as the first two. However, it turned out they were short at Circulation - both Jemma and Leo had called out sick, so he and Skye were staffing the desk. This meant Clint was getting a crash course in how the computer system worked.

He decided he’d rather be shelving books.

But he liked working with Skye. She was just as young as the other two, but she didn’t seem quite so naive. Maybe he got that from her stitched up boots, or the way she carried herself, like she was an inch away from a fight.

“If all else fails,” Skye disappeared beneath the desk again, this time coming back up with a thick binder. “You have a cheat sheet. This is the policy and procedures book. Explains all the circ rules and how to work the ILS.”

“That’s the catalog, right?” Clint took the binder the flipped through it. It was like two hundred pages. Not exactly a cheat sheet.

“Integrated Library System. It manages the book inventory, along with the user inventory, so we know the location of every item at all times.” She pointed to the tall metal stands in front of the entrance. “Unfortunately we don’t have a fancy RFID tag system, so if someone tries to steal a book, the alarm will go off, but we’ll have no idea what book they’ve stolen. That’s why it’s important to stop the person if you can.”

Clint gave her his best attempt at a salute. “Aye-aye, captain.” Never actually having been in the military, he probably sucked at it. “Shouldn’t we, uh, have a security guard or something for that?”

Not that he wanted police here. The thought of that had him shivering. But if people were stealing books….

“We talked about at a staff meeting once, but the Stark Library Protocols are very strict. Freedom of access to information is very important.” She saw his blank look. “Let me show you where the protocols are online.”

“You really know your stuff,” Clint said after a good fifteen minutes of Skye darting between training him and answering questions and checking out books.

She shrugged, her cheeks pink. “You’ll get there. I’ve been here a while.”

Clint wanted to ask her more about that. Did she come by her job like he had? Or did people apply normally to work at Stark libraries - not like Clint had any idea on how to actually apply for a real job anyway.

A commotion at the front entrance stole his attention.

A crowd had massed outside the doors, consisting of reporters and TV news crews. Flash bulbs went off, and the noise got louder as Tony Stark himself opened the glass door the stepped into the library.

It took everything Clint had not to duck down behind the counter like Skye was so fond of doing. 

Stark paused as he opened the glass door and turned around. He waggled his finger at the reporters. “Uh, nope. Remember, no paparazzo in the library. Mom’s rules!” Then he strode into the library, with one woman at his side. The reporters remained on the steps, staring into the library like kids outside a toy store.

“Look, it’s two of my favorite people.” He made finger guns at Clint. “Burton! And Daisy.”

“It’s Skye,” she corrected, but neither Skye nor Stark seemed upset about the mistake.

Clint didn’t correct his own name. He couldn’t tell if Stark seemed disappointed or not. 

“Anyway, Pepper has my DVDs. Just let her know what I owe and she’ll cut the check. Where’s Coulson? We need to talk about the expo.” Without waiting for a response, Tony Stark started off toward the Reference Desk.

The red-haired woman approached the desk with a stack of DVDs, all barcoded with the library’s stamps. “Sorry about that. I think he’s had these out for a year or so.”

“I got it, Ms. Potts.” Skye took the stack and started checking them back in with the barcode reader. “Clint you should watch this. I need to show you how to deal with, um, excessive fines.”

Clint was still shell-shocked. “Tony Stark checks out DVDs?”

Pepper laughed. “He likes to feel like he’s part of the library. Tries to check out a few things every time he stops by. He does watch them all, eventually. It just takes a while.”

Not that Tony Stark couldn’t buy all these movies himself. Clint shook his head as he watched Skye finish with the check-ins and navigate to the fines screen. 

“Now usually we waive fines over ten dollars. But Mr. Stark likes to pay the full share.”

“He likes to contribute,” Pepper supplied. “What’s the damage, Skye?” She had pulled out a leather checkbook from her purse.

“One thousand, eight hundred and fifty dollars.” Skye replied. “Here, Clint, this is where you input a check payment.”

“Holy shit,” he replied. “That’s a huge fine.”

“Dollar a day for each of the five DVDs for an entire year.” Skye slid over the desk calculator. “You can double check if you want.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you…” Clint cut himself off. Stark could have bought those DVDs for far cheaper. Yet he wanted to pay a ridiculous fine because, why, it made him feel good?

Rich people. Clint would never understand them.

“Here you go.” Pepper slid the check across the counter.

“Now, normally, we’d need a form of ID to accept this…” Skye continued in her training, but Clint only listened with half an ear.

He was too busy watching Tony Stark standing by the Reference Desk and shaking Phil Coulson’s hand. His first instincts had been correct. Phil Coulson was way out of his league. Good thing Clint didn’t have to work closely with the man.

  
***  


Phil felt panic squeeze his chest as he saw Tony Stark barrelling down toward him. This was not a scheduled visit. He wasn’t ready! There was too much left to do and Stark was going to ask him about the exhibition and…

“Breathe,” Maria said into his ear, about two seconds before Stark reached them.

Phil sucked in a breath - it would have been terrible if he’d passed out - plastered a smile on his face, and walked over. “Mr. Stark. What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know you were planning on visiting today.”

“Aw, Phil, do I need a reason to visit my favorite librarian?”

“You usually do, yes.” Phil saw that Stark’s assistant, Pepper Potts, was still speaking to the staff at circulation. He hoped she wrapped it up soon. Phil would much rather deal with her calming influence than the whirlwind that was Tony Stark.

“Why don’t we talk about the expo? Show me where everything is going.”

Phil had walked Stark on the tour at least once before, but he obliged and led him around the main area in the library, where several shelving units had been moved in order to make way for the display boards coming in just a few weeks now. 

“Everything will be set up in time for the Gala. We’ll close the library early the night before and I plan on staying until it’s all done.”

“And where will you store everything?” Stark swung his arms around and nearly be-headed Mrs. Morris. 

Phil kept his sigh to himself. Stark had been jonesing to the see the basement for a while now. Perhaps he thought some secret library things went on down there. It was all rather boring, really. It was a basement.

“This way, sir.” Phil looked over at Pepper, who was still chatting with the circulation staff. It must have been a terribly high fine this time. For a moment his gaze fell on Clint. Clint didn’t notice, of course. He peered at his computer, his eyes narrowed as he looked at the screen. Perhaps he needed glasses. They’d look good on him, soften that jaw up a bit.

“Coulson? You were leading the way, weren’t you?”

Phil shook himself. Why was he thinking about Clint at a time like this? He led Stark to the back stair, entered the code in the doorknob lock, and flipped on the lights. The concrete stairs led to another locked door.

“What is it, fort knox down here?”

“Just the archives.” Not that the archives weren’t valuable, however, they were more historic than monetary. They had belonged to Maria Stark, so even an invitation to tea had some value of its own if it came from her.

Phil led Stark to the whiteboard he’d scribbled on. “As you can see, sir, I have the timeline planned out. Next week we start the press releases, distributing the flyers, and so on. Caterers have been selected and contracted. Just a few more fine details to be ironed out.” Phil gestured to his scribbling on the board. 

“Coulson, you need an assistant,” Stark blurted. “How can you manage this entire thing by yourself?”

Phil bristled. “I assure you, Mr. Stark, I am perfectly capable of seeing this project to completion on my own. There are plenty of other library staff to assist, as well.”

Stark shook his head. “You sound like Pepper, but even she has a whole bucketful of people to do the mundane shit. Like, who’s meeting the trucks at the dock, stuff like that.”

Who was meeting the delivery trucks at the dock? Phil needed to add that to his spreadsheet.

“I have it completely under control. I do not need an assistant.”

  
***  


“I need an assistant.”

Phil paced Fury’s office, trying to quell his shaking hands. It had just occurred to him just how much work he needed to do to make sure everything was in place for the exhibition. Time wouldn’t stop moving, and Phil had plenty left to do. 

Fury just watched him pace, that slight smirk on his face. Phil could tell there was an “I told you so” coming - Fury had insisted from the beginning that Phil couldn’t do this on his own. 

“Unless,” Phil said lightly, stopping in the middle of the room with his hands clasped behind his back. “You can relieve me from my other library responsibilities until after the exhibition is over.”

“Not gonna happen, Coulson, you know we’re short as it is.” Fury shook his head. 

Panic squeezed his chest. Phil honestly didn’t know how he was going to get through the next few weeks. Lots of late nights, that was for sure.

Before he could spiral too badly, Fury put him out of his misery. “But I can assign you an assistant. The new page, Barton. That’s his whole job, being where we need him to be.”

Oh no. Phil couldn’t take back his request, and it actually was a good solution. Clint didn’t belong to any department in particular, so it didn’t matter what tasks Phil assigned him. But he couldn’t very well tell Fury that he found Clint attractive.

Even so, Phil was a professional. He knew he was capable of working with someone, no matter how handsome he found them to be. Heaven knew, Phil had hidden his feelings before. “Thank you, sir.”

“One catch,” Fury smirked. “You’re going to have to tell Natasha that you’re commandeering her favorite new worker.”

Well. Crap.


End file.
